Italy
by CreedsGalBirdy
Summary: Sabretooth/Birdy -- A business trip brings out Creed's possessive side. A simple "everyday life" story from my Emma Series.
1. Part I

Italy  
by 1Grrl4Vic  
co-writer Vicchic  
  
Disclaimer: Sabretooth and Birdy belong to Marvel. Tony and Maria belong to me. The old lady belongs to Vicchic.   
  
Author's Notes: Vicchic wrote most of this but she thought I should be the one to post it. Originally, it was my idea... just a scene that popped into my head, semi-inspired by The Sentinel and Jim Ellison's "zone out factor." This fits into my Emma Series timeline during "Vic and Birdy's Further Adventures in Parenthood."   
  
**Also, there are a few ethnic slurs contained in this fic and it is not our intention to offend. We are merely trying to portray Victor Creed as true to his character as we can.**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The black limousine negotiated through the narrow Tuscan streets with surprising smoothness; the experienced driver adept at ferrying the well-to-do and upper class in the comfort they demanded. The blonde passenger watched his companions casually, glancing only occasionally at the picture-postcard beauty of the 14th century town. He didn't share their enthusiasm. Victor Creed was here on business. Italy held no other appeal for him.   
  
  
The same couldn't be said for Birdy. She was obviously thrilled to be here. Creed watched her chatting happily with his client, Tony, and Tony's sister, Maria. He thought she was Tony's sister. Truth was he didn't give a fuck who she was. But he'd shake her hand...hell, he'd cut her throat as a bonus for the cool million he was making on this contract. Maria noticed his eyeing her and gave him a warm smile. He smiled in return.   
  
Creed glanced at Birdy. He congratulated himself on his decision to bring her on the trip. Five months pregnant and she still looked like the best fuck in town. Her pretty blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun, wisps of hair floating against her cheekbones and neck. She wore a cotton halter dress that showed her already expanding breasts nicely. Creed was definitely a breast man. And a leg man. But the sight of her slender arms and smooth shoulders was enough to get him hard.   
  
Birdy saw Creed watching her and she nudged him with her sandal. No, Creed corrected himself, her six-beads-and-two-strips-of-leather $600 dollar sandals. Some designer bullshit. Blanik? He reminded himself not to offer Birdy a traveling outfit for the next trip. Or better yet, leave her ass at home. But she looked good now. He smiled thinking of her buck-ass naked with those pretty sandaled feet over his shoulders.   
  
"Boss? Boss?"   
  
Her voice pulled him back from his afternoon planning. "Yeah? What?"   
  
"This is so beautiful. Thanks for bringing me."   
  
"Yeah...whatever," he replied gruffly. "It's not like you haven't been here a few times. Didn't you come here with that pretty-boy Hollywood prick you use ta go with?"   
  
"Oh him?" Birdy laughed, complemented by the jealous sound in Creed's voice. "Sure. But it's always beautiful." She turned back to Tony as he explained the history of the church they were passing. Birdy laughed excitedly, "Oh, we''ll have to go there too!"   
  
Creed watched Tony pouring the charm on his Birdy. He was good, Creed had to admit. A regular Don Juan. Sure, the guy wanted to screw Birdy. You could smell it on him. But he knew how to package it. He was attentive. He nodded at everything Birdy said. Acted like every thing outta her mouth was pearls of fuckin' wisdom. Creed imagined his claws tearing that wop voicebox from his throat.   
  
  
  
Creed sighed relief when they finally reached the hotel. He would have preferred the Four Seasons or some other assured quality place, but Birdy pleaded for the more authentic, smaller hotel. Their suite was exceptional, he had to admit. Several rooms, French doors opening onto two balconies. Fourteen foot ceilings with all the molding and fixtures to match. Antique furniture. A class joint all and all.   
  
Birdy attended to the unpacking while Victor set up his laptop. He examined maps of the area, as well as detail of the estate where his intended target was spending his last days. The red light from the sunset drew his attention. He stretched and walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the town. It was a spectacular view. The gold-red light bathed the red tiled roofs of the buildings below, warming the hard color to a red-brown. The white stucco of the walls turning gold.   
  
He felt Birdy behind him. He turned to look at her. She was naked. Except for a pair of designer sandals. She was conscious of the appeal she exuded. Didn't she feel sexy as hell? And Creed had assured her that the rounded belly didn't take a thing away from her. She carried two bottles of Italian beer in her hand.   
  
"Hey, Boss. Thought you might like something cool."   
  
He couldn't help but smile. He walked towards her and she pulled a carved chair to face him, gesturing for him to sit. She handed him a beer and he sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Birdy sank to her knees before him, spreading his thighs and wedging herself between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him hard. She pulled up his knit shirt, and planted small kisses on his hard abdomen. Creed watched her, feeling himself grow rock hard at her touch. He stroked his fingers through the mass of blonde hair, now curling in the Italian humidity. Birdy raised her face and smiled at him. The look was lustful but also so clearly affectionate, that Creed felt uneasy. He gripped her hair a little tighter, tugging her head back a little.   
  
"Birdy, you be sure and stay away from that swarthy guinea, Tony, tonight. I don't like the way he looks at you."   
  
She smiled as she unzipped his pants. "Tony who?"   
  
Creed chuckled and leaned back into the chair, letting Birdy take care of him.   
  
  
  
  
  
"Ya look good, Boss."   
  
Creed harumphed at her complement.   
  
"It ain't a fashion show, Birdy," he replied, turning away from her. But hell, six and a half feet of muscle in Prada black knit did look pretty damn good.   
  
"So you're goin' out to dinner with Maria, right?" he questioned.   
  
Birdy brought Creed his loafers from the closet. She wore the little silk robe he'd bought her in Japan last year. Her bed-head hair made him want to take off his clothes off again.   
  
"Yeah, just me and Maria. I'll be here when you get back from your test-run." Creed simply nodded in reply.   
  
"Uh, Boss?"   
  
"Yeah?" Creed prepared to leave.   
  
"Would you get my sandal out of the chandelier before you leave?" Creed laughed and moved toward the light fixture over the bed.   
  
  
  



	2. Part II

  
  
The small, exclusive restaurant was busy, despite the late hour. The lights were low, enhancing the warmth given off by the multiple hanging lanterns. The trio in the corner table of the patio were enjoying a fine _Al Fresco_ meal; animated conversation and laughter flowed easily between them.  
  
Birdy rested her folded hands under her chin and listened to her host. Tony regaled Birdy and Maria with a tale of a lover's triangle and of a furious duel that had taken place two centuries past on the very cobblestones where they sat. She didn't know if it was a true story. She didn't care. It was a warm and lovely night, and she was enjoying herself.   
  
She picked up the glass in front of her and sipped the jeweled contents. The warm wine tasted delicious. It had been three months since she'd had alcohol. This was her indulgence for the evening. Not that imbibing spirits was something she normally worried about. But with the baby...she was going to practice restraint. Not that Creed cared. He thought her caution was foolish. With the DNA this kid had running through him, what did he have to worry about? "He's gonna come out kickin' ass!_"_ Vic had proclaimed. "He's my kid ain't he?"  
  
  
_"Sto annoiandoli Senora"_  
  
Birdy was brought back to the moment by Tony's question. "I'm sorry Tony..what did you say?"  
  
"I'm afraid I am boring you with my stories," he apologized.  
  
"No, not at all," she assured him, remembering her manners. "Please. Go on." Tony smiled and continued the tale of the star-crossed lovers.   
  
Birdy listened attentively. Though she knew instinctively that innately charming people like Tony relished the sound of their own voice enough to manage a solo conversation. Being a telepath, she could listen to a conversation and mentally recite the Declaration of Independence simultaneously if she wanted to. But Tony was pleasant and entertaining. It had been a long time, fourteen months to be exact, since she'd been around a man who felt obliged to charm her.  
  
Birdy had fleetingly wondered when Tony had joined them unexpectedly, if Creed would be bothered. But watching Tony now, she dismissed the concern as...silly. Not that she would tell Vic. She wasn't stupid.  
  
Tony was handsome. He had an easy manner that obviously drew people to him. But underneath the smooth exterior he was....hollow. She didn't need her PSI powers to tell her that. He was attracted to her. Birdy had had the same effect on men since she was fourteen. But Tony was as concerned about the impression _he_ made as he was impressing her.   
  
Birdy thought of her boss. He never worried about making an impression. He had a self-confidence that could be overwhelming. He was unpredictable, intense, sexually demanding. Being with him had nearly gotten her killed more than once.   
  
He was the most exciting man she'd ever known.  
  
Birdy wondered about her taste in men. Hadn't she had several lovers that were as wealthy? That were almost as exciting? Certainly less dangerous? She smiled.  
And here she was at twenty-three. Living with a mutant assassin. A dangerous killer. Unmarried and knocked up with his kid. _Smart move, Birdy_, she chided herself mentally.  
  
_"Dovete mangiare"_  
  
  
The restaurants owner's wife stood with her hands on her hips eyeing Birdy critically. She had little use for the American idea of a good figure. And this pretty blonde was pregnant to boot. She motioned to Birdy's nearly untouched veal.   
  
Birdy smiled and gestured with her hand, implying a full belly. She had eaten the _antipasto_, and most of the _gnocchi_, but the veal, though buttery tender, was too much for her. She glanced at Tony in a silent plea for rescue. He took the cue and stood, placing his arm around the matron's shoulders.   
  
He was obviously complementing the perfect meal. He assured the woman that the meal would not be wasted. Birdy heard _marito_, was that husband? The woman looked confused. Tony clenched his fingers like claws and bared his teeth. The matron's eyes widened in recognition.  
  
_"Si, si! Il Werewolf!"_ The frightened woman exclaimed before hurrying away to retrieve a take-home container. The woman had apparently met Creed before.  
  
Birdy dropped her head to the table and began to laugh. She laughed until her sides hurt. She looked up, wiping tears from her eyes.  
  
Tony was sitting close to her -- too close to her -- showing concern. "You are all right, _Senora_?"  
  
Birdy took a deep breath. "Yeah," she smiled. "I'm great. I'm just feeling a little giddy. Must be the wine." She made her apologies and said her goodnights, assuring Maria that she would be game for sightseeing later in the week. Tony summoned the driver and Birdy relaxed in the limo as she returned to the hotel.  
  
  
  
  
In the suite, Birdy changed into a short, satin nightgown. The full moon drew her to the balcony. She stood at the wrought iron rail looking over the moonlit town. She sighed.  
  
"Oh, Romeo, Romeo," she giggled.  
  
Her Romeo had fangs.  
  
  
Birdy smiled as she gently stroked her belly. Her's was a crazy life but she didn't care. She missed Creed. She wanted him. Even after the two hour boinkfest they'd shared earlier in the evening.  
  
Maybe it was hormones. Maybe she was crazy about the guy. Maybe she was a little off center herself.  
  
No matter. This was where she wanted to be. She turned into the room, deciding to sleep a few hours before her lover came home.  
  
The late night air rustled the sheer curtains as it whispered into the hotel suite. Birdy climbed into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up over her belly, smoothing out wrinkles in the sheet. She drifted off, content to let sleep take her.  
  
  
  



	3. Part III

  
  
  
Birdy woke slightly as she shifted in her sleep only to hear a low, deep growl in the darkness.  
  
"Where were you tonight?" Creed asked slowly.  
  
Still somewhat asleep, Birdy's reply was a groggy, "Hmm?" A violent jerk pinning her shoulders to the bed was the answer back, shocking her from sleep.  
  
"I said I wanna know where th' fuck you were tonight while I was out."  
  
Blinking in the darkness, Birdy replied, "Boss, I went to dinner with Maria. I came straight back to the room. What's'a matter with you?"  
  
Yanking Birdy into a sitting position, unconcerned with her current condition, Creed threatened quietly, "Yer fuckin' lyin' an' we both know it. I can smell him on you. An' I can smell how much you like it so _don't_ fucking play games with me!"  
  
_Has he totally lost it?_ Birdy thought to herself. _He thinks I was getting aroused by... Tony?_ "Wait, Boss. You got it all wrong. It wasn't Tony. I swear. It was..."  
  
"You fuckin' around with someone else then? Don't you know by now you belong to me?!" He shook her to emphasize his point.  
  
"Now you lay off, Mister Creed. You don't have all your ducks in a row so don't accuse me of anything!" Birdy pushed back against him, trying unsuccessfully to remove herself from his grip.  
  
"Yer knocked up an' whorin' around like the fuckin' dirty bitch you are," he sneered bitterly. Anger quickly took over and in a moment of frustration Birdy slapped Creed across the face. The unexpected suddenness of the assault momentarily stunned Sabretooth allowing Birdy a chance to break from his grasp. Throwing off the covers, she got up from the bed. Victor reached out snagging her by the wrist and held her in place as he climbed from the bed.  
  
"Where d'ya think yer goin'? I ain't done with you yet." He tightened his grip forcing a cry of surprise from Birdy, her arm twisting awkwardly to compensate for the pain.  
  
"You're wrong, Mister Creed. I didn't have anything to do with Tony. You're being paranoid. It was just me and Maria. Now lemme go or I'll blast you one." Birdy fought back tears of frustration. She had thought they were beyond this. That by her willingness to carry his child had somehow calmed their tumultuous relationship. Whereas before it seemed more like master and slave, four months after she discovered she was pregnant they had settled into an eerie tranquility with each other.  
  
"Do it an' you'll get double back," he promised quietly. Victor was in no mood to be threatened and certainly not by Birdy, of all people. She had gone out with a man he expressly told her she was not allow to see and then she was so stupid as to not even hide the fact that the scent of her arousal still clung to her skin.  
  
Birdy held his gaze, not hinting that she was building her power up to ensure a powerful mindblast. The only outward sign was her slow intake of breath. But by this time, Victor had curled his free hand into a fist, ready to strike before she had the chance to hit first. Knowing that if someone didn't attack, they'd stand there until someone did, Birdy summoned her power and attaching a mental acknowledgment of what really happened with Tony, she slammed into Victor's mind.  
  
Sabretooth's mind became a torrent of pinpricks and fire as Birdy used her power against him. But before the psi-blast could render him unconscious, he swung his free arm out, connecting with the side of Birdy's head. The force of the hit sent Birdy slamming into the wall. She slid to the floor unconscious.  
  
  
  
  
Victor Creed woke moments later, seated on the floor, his back propped against the side of the bed. He shook his head to clear the last traces of fogginess from it. He underestimated how powerful a blast Birdy would dare use against him. He could still feel a tingling at the base of his skull that faded down his spine. He rubbed the back of his neck to massage away the remnants of sensation left by the telepathic attack. He groaned wearily as he stood and ambled over to where Birdy lay, still unconscious on the floor.  
  
He dropped down into a crouch next to her still form. With one hand he reached up to the nearby nightstand, turning the light on, bathing the room in a delicate glow. He traced a finger along her right temple. The skin felt warmer there, the blood rising to the surface of the skin where he had hit her, but thankfully, hadn't broken the skin. She'd hold it against him if he'd actually drawn blood. Gently he turned her head and it lulled against the wall. He examined the left side of her head where it had come in contact with the wall. Victor shook his head and grimaced, "Ya never listen, do ya, girl?" He heaved a sigh into the quiet room, studying her for a moment longer just to be sure she was still breathing.  
  
Careful of Birdy's pregnant belly, Victor gently picked her up and set her on the bed. Checking her over one last time he felt a pang of guilt for hitting her. They'd made a deal and even though he felt it was her fault he broke his end of the bargain, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry. After all, he didn't want his kid to end up brain damaged just because he couldn't control himself or because Birdy had a smart mouth and just didn't know when to shut up. Oh well. It was in the past and there was nothing he could do about it now.  
  
  
  
  
  
The morning sun cascaded through the still-open patio doors of the hotel suite. Birdy rubbed a hand wearily over her eyes, moaning as a slight throb on both sides of her head registered. Blinking the sleep from her eyes and yawning appreciatively, Birdy stretched a little, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She sat there for a long moment, trying to wake up, when she heard a grunt behind her. She turned to look, finding Victor still deeply entrenched in sleep. Shrugging, she got up and headed for the bathroom to assess the damage she could feel on her temples.  
  
  
Squinting at the amount of natural light flooding the room, Birdy examined the darkening bruise on her right temple that faded back into her hairline. Her bottom lip began to quiver and her brow was knitted tightly. She closed her eyes and braced herself against the cool, marble counter. Her head began to hurt, tears fighting for release. But she wouldn't cry. She'd be damned before she cried because of him. Inhaling a calming breath, Birdy sniffed gently and straightened herself up. She started up the shower, with a hand on her stomach to reassure herself that she was okay, she waited for the water to heat up to a comfortable temperature. She let her short, satin nightgown slip to the floor with a whisper. Then she stepped into the shower, gently closing the glass door.  
  
  
  
  
Victor woke slowly with a muffled grunt. Brusquely rubbing a hand over his face, he rolled onto his back, relishing in the simple pleasure of cooler sheets in a new position. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of water hitting the soft skin of his woman. His pregnant woman, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes and sighed.   
  
After the psi-blast, he had realized that it wasn't Tony who had caused Birdy's arousal. It was him. His instincts had told him one thing and his brain had gotten it all mixed up. That thought bothered him. A lot. He had trusted his instincts for as long as he could remember. But now that Birdy was pregnant, he was second guessing himself left and right.  
  
  
  
  
  
Birdy stood under the spraying water long after she was fully awake and clean. The hot shower was soothing and she hugged her arms around herself, relishing the comforting warmth. She stroked her hands up and down her arms and rocked back and forth slightly. Only then did she let her tears flow.  
  
She wouldn't let this change anything, she promised herself. Creed was a crazy sonofabitch. But she knew that going in. Sure, the pregnancy was an accident, but she was _staying_ pregnant because she _wanted_ this baby. Plain and simple. She was a lot tougher than most people thought. She knew that. Creed knew it, too.  
  
The hot water began to wane, and she stood under the shower, letting the tepid water turn cold. She breathed deeply, the now icy spray invigorating her. Birdy reached down and gripped the antique porcelain handles and turned off the waterflow. She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and wrapped herself in the luxury "her" robe provided by the hotel.  
  
She walked into the suite's bedroom. Victor was awake and he watched her as if he'd willed her into the room. He was reclining in the bed, gloriously displayed against the Romanesque bedding and pillows. "Thought you might be drownin' in there, Birdy."  
  
She sighed and moved to the chaise lounge furthest from the bed. She took a small fluffy towel and began to dry her hair, keeping a wary eye on her adversary. Creed smiled slightly and climbed out of the huge bed. Taking a moment to slip on his boxers -- a gesture not lost on Birdy -- he walked over to her. He towered over her sitting form, so in an effort to have an equal interchange, he crouched next to the lounge. Now they could see eye to eye.  
  
He wasn't a man to beat around the bush. He didn't now.  
  
"You okay, girl? No concussion or bleedin'?" She didn't answer. She glanced at him and looked away.  
  
"Come on, Birdy," Creed entreated. "Ya oughta feel good. Ya gave me such a blast, I couldn't even remember my own name for a minute or two."  
  
Birdy turned and looked him in the eye. "It's 'rat bastard.'"  
  
He chuckled at her remark, admiring her nerve. "Yeah," he growled softly. "That's it." Now Birdy laughed but quickly stifled it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.  
  
"That's my girl," he soothed, placing his large hands on the little bit of thigh that peeked out from the robe. He moved his hands up her thighs, moving closer to her.  
  
"Don't!" Birdy said sharply, covering his hands with hers in an attempt to stop their upward momentum. "Don't!" she repeated, her voice betraying emotion. "Don't do this, not now. I can't take you knocking me senseless and wanting to make love to me in the same twelve hours. You're crazy enough to like it, but I'm not."  
  
Victor leaned away from her and rested his hands on her knees. "Let me do something for ya, Birdy. Let me give you what you need."  
  
"What I need?" she replied sexily. "You want to give me what I need?"  
  
"Yeah. Whatever you want, baby," he offered, moving towards her for a kiss.  
  
"Whatever I want?" she purred, turning her head as he nuzzled against her soft neck.  
  
"Hell yeah, girl."  
  
"Okay..." she said softly as she opened her legs slightly, revealing her golden thighs and the soft hair between them. Creed smiled slightly, careful to hide his triumph. He kissed her softly.  
  
"Name your pleasure, Birdy."  
  
"Fendi."  
  
"Huh?" he mumbled as he kissed her neck. Birdy's knees made an audible sound as they locked together.  
  
"FENDI," she spoke slowly as if he were mentally challenged. "You know... Fendi? Prada? This IS Italy." Placing the flat of her palms against his chest, she pushed him away from her. "I wanna go shopping. And then there are several museums in _Fedors's_ I want to see. One even has a Michelangelo. And then there's a restaurant the concierge recommended..."  
  
Vic interrupted her. "What makes you think I'll spend the day playing tourist with you?"  
  
She lifted her chin defiantly. "For balance," she challenged.  
  
Creed met her gaze...and smiled. "Okay, Birdy. I'll take you on your little outing. Hell, I could use a couple of new suits myself. But when we get back," he grumbled, "your ass is mine...anyway I want it."  
  
Birdy started to object but caught herself. "You're the boss, Boss." Despite her pregnancy, Birdy gracefully leapt from the lounge and headed for the dressing room. Victor heard her humming to herself as she searched for an appropriate shopping outfit.   
  
He sat on the lounge's edge, watching her. Fair enough, he thought to himself. It was in his self interest to keep Birdy happy...at least for the next few months. He had a keen sense of self preservation, and this kid _was_ his progeny after all. But after that....he'd make no promises. After that, he wouldn't give a rat's ass about balance.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
